"Will you write," asked the doctor, "and tell me how you are getting along?" "Oh, yes!" "The last advice I can give you is this: excite his imagination; get him started with his writing. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. If Gerald knew, what should stop Gosse from finding out? Perhaps he was even now at the lawyer. Whenever Ah Cum (whose normal stride was sufficient to keep him at the side of her chair) pointed out something of interest, she had to strain the cords in her neck to focus her glance upon the object. "No; it's only a fresh gale," Ben returned: "hark! now it comes.
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